The Story of First Meetings
by QuickSilverFox3
Summary: "So how did you two meet?" - The two tales Goodnight has about meeting Billy, the one he tells everyone, and the one that only they know. Goodnight x Billy; Goodnight Billy; Goolly


"So how did you two meet?"

An innocent enough question at face value, common enough to be heard a hundred times over, in bars, in saloons, in passing on the road. Always directed at Goodnight, with a sideways glance at Billy, his features even more unexpected the further out they travelled. After all, he was easily recognisable as Goodnight Robicheaux, famed Angel of Death, bringer of death and holy judgement from miles away with pinpoint accuracy in the war. In addition he was charming, a true Southern gentleman with an easy smile, a rich laugh and full of sayings to calm even the twitchiest of nerves. How could Billy compare to that? He was shorter and slighter, face foreign and alien to many of the people encountered. He was as silent as the grave, serious and watching, always watching, dark eyes under dark furrowed brows. And the people turned to Goodnight to ask that question, just like Faraday did now. The man grinned, clearly nervous even though he did not seem to be letting himself feel it, while his travelling companion was terrified, casting nervous glances at Billy every few seconds.

"Where ever I go, Billy goes," Goodnight said firmly, putting to rest any arguments the man may have thought about making. Goodnight didn't need to look to know what Billy was doing: slouched against the wall, hat resting at his side and knife carefully tucked back away in his hair; cigarette clamped between his teeth as he gently exhaled smoke, watching, always watching.  
But now, Faraday. All nerves and fidgeting fingers drumming over the hilt of his guns, the easy smile of a lucky man who knew exactly how lucky he was. And lo and behold, the question reared it's head once again.

"How did we meet Billy?" Goodnight asked, not expecting an answer as the other grabbed a plate from the table, movements quick enough to make the nervous man- Teddy, Faraday had said his name was- flinch. Billy flicked his eyes up at him, extinguishing the cigarette in a puff of ash and beginning to eat, scooping up the vaguely brown mush with his fingers. Goodnight tipped his head back, cigarette pinched between his fingers as he felt the cold of the lather spread over his cheeks, the snick-snick of the razor was the barber sharpened it just behind him.

"I was serving a warrant on him for the North Pacific Railroad," he said, the fabrication falling from his lips easily now, words almost masking his shiver as he recalled the true events of that day.

 _The sky grew darker and then darker still even as the sun beat down hot and heavy, high in the midday sky. Crows filled the air, sky reverberating with their throaty caws, ground seeming to shudder as they briefly took to the air only to land once more on the twisted bodies that had once been men. Their blood oozed into the ground, empty eyes staring up at the crow filled sky and the mud soaked into Goodnight's trousers as he knelt there, kept company in the mud made red by corpses he put there, crows eager for their meal and him._

 _He looked like a man. No man could do what he just did._

"I found Billy down in an old redneck saloon in Texas."

Goodnight was still there, in the barbers chair, the man's rough hands carefully gliding the razor across his skin, a cold bite in its wake, feet propped up and watching his audience. Faraday was swirling his drink around in the bottle, amber liquid sloshing against the sides, the man always in motion. Teddy was still eyeing up Billy, a rabbit in the face of a much more dangerous predator, trying to keep still so as to not draw attention. And Billy… Goodnight always knew what Billy was doing, had seen his reaction to this story a hundred times before: slow methodical movements, dark eyes staring out at the world staring back, face inscrutable save fire a faint hint of amusement.

 _"Thank you for my present," the person who was not a man, but looked like one said staring around the sea of bodies. The crows flapped and worried, letting loose their croaking caws but didn't come any closer, didn't start their feasting, they waited as Goodnight waited, his gun long since fallen from cold numb fingers._  
 _"Your present?" He managed, raising his head just enough to look at the man who was not a man's face. He was striking, all hard angles and knowing grin containing too many glints of sharp teeth._  
 _"Yes. You summoned me and gave me a truly lovely present. I'm touched."_

 _The man crouched down in front of Goodnight, hands resting on his knees as he stared back at him, gaze seeming to burrow through him and see into his very soul. Goodnight held the man's gaze and saw stars erupt and die in his eyes, suns spinning across an endless empty blackness, cities collapse and burn, before he dropped his gaze, gasping for breath, hands trembling. The man in front of him chuckled, a deeper sound that rolled deeper, the noise shaking the earth beneath them, mud spattering against Goodnight's face. He stared down at his hands, and stopped. His hands were covered in blood, the thick red liquid growing slightly tacky as time advanced ever onwards. Goodnight raised his gaze once more to meet the man's eyes once more and saw his own face, a fine mist of blood arcing over his cheeks, droplets covering every available inch. He saw his end in the man's endless dark eyes._

"And all these good ol' boys, they didn't want to serve Billy's kind, alright?"

It gave him a sick almost twisted sense of satisfaction to see the flush that rose in his audiences cheeks at that point. It didn't matter where they told this falsehood, or to who, be it barmaids or preachers, soldiers or farmers. Everyone couldn't meet his eyes at this point if they were white, their own guilt causing them to look away. Faraday held his gaze for longer than most before his eyes twitched away, taking a long swig from the bottle before returning to his swirling motion, the other hand tracing a gentle finger of the barrel of his gun. Teddy couldn't even manage that, his eyes dropping even further as he stared at the stained and pitted wood of the table top, nudging his own plate along the surface. Goodnight knew he was no better than them, had learnt since the misguided days of his youth but he kept his head high now. The razor continued, the barber silent and focused.

Snick, snick, snick.

Billy grinned, the motion concealed behind his glove, tossing the now empty bowl expertly back onto the table. He leant back, resting his head against the wall as he retrieved the stub of his cigarette, placing it back into his mouth.

 _"Why me?"_  
 _Goodnight's question hung in the air, his gaze locked onto the man's dark eyes. His mouth was dry, words jumbling in his head. He was normally an eloquent man, the right word or saying never far from his mind, but now here, kneeling in amongst this carnage he caused, they swam away from his grasping fingers._  
 _"Because you give thanks to me," the man said, dark eyes unblinking, what would have been a kindly smile on his face save for the presence of too many teeth, "You give thanks to me with every shot fired, with every life extinguished. You were given to me and so I am given to you."_  
 _Unbidden, one trembling hand raised up to the locket tucked around his neck._  
 _"This will keep you safe," his grandmother had whispered, her accent thickening deliberately so that his mother didn't understand, closing his fingers around the locket with a grip as strong as iron and skin that felt like paper._

 _And so it had._

 _"That bullet-" he began, before the man cut him off, leaning forward to rest his forehead against his own, eyes still staring, breath that smelt like smoke._  
 _"It would have killed you. I hold your death Goodnight and it's not today."_  
 _Goodnight breathed in the sweet smoke, stared into his death reflected back at him from this spirit, demon, man crouched in front of him, close as close could be._  
 _"Thank you."_  
 _That seemed to surprise the man, a flash of genuine shock disrupting the endless scenes of death in his eye and the man rocked backwards on his heels, mouth quirked into a smile as he tiled his head this way and that, studying Goodnight._  
 _"You're welcome," he said finally, slowly rising to his feet. The man blocked out the sun, Goodnight still on his knees before him, a supplicant before his God. One gloved hand entered his field of vision, finger wriggling after a few moments._  
 _"On your feet. We have a long way to go now."_

"So this, uh, petite son of a bitch took on the whole room bare knuckled."  
Goodnight laughed at his, tipping his head back further, eyes half lidded in remembrance. They were remembering, he knew, Billy's skill with a knife, the swiftness of his movements and of the blood that decorated the once golden sand outside in the corral. What was a man's life worth if he willingly traded it away for pride and some coins? Faraday glanced over at Billy, seeing the man in a new light, not as an inferior, but something nearing an equal, another killer to be feared. Teddy shifted nervously in his sea, wood creaking under his weight, another quick nervous swallow of his beer, Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. This wasn't as much of a lie as the first part, the admiration and respect in Goodnight's voice real. Billy was a sight to see in action, teeth bared in a snarl, eyes focused and intent on his target as he moved to spring, fist impacting with a force not expected from a shorter man and definitively not from a foreigner. Few men stood against Billy and remained standing, and when the man truly let loose? There would be no survivors. This Goodnight knew for certain.

 _"What makes you think I'm going to go with you?" Goodnight asked, raising his gaze once more, ignoring the offered hand. The man grinned, once again displaying his too sharp, too many teeth._  
 _"You don't have to go anywhere with me. This is America, after all. Land of the free. And I am very far from my home in this land and it's new gods. But I will be with you."_  
 _"And what do you get out of it? I don't die unless you say and you get?" Goodnight demanded, some of his old fire reigniting in his chest, cold creeping up his limbs sodden from the mud._  
 _"I get company, I get something to pass the time, I get you," the man explained simply, seeming to be delighted that Goodnight was regaining his spirit, "I go where you go."_  
 _"My daddy always said I didn't have the common sense God gave a goat," Goodnight said, more to himself than to the man, but he laughed regardless, a low deep chuckle that shook Goodnight's very bones._  
 _He looked up at this spirit, this man, and stretched out a hand to take his._

"I watched in awe and I said to myself, 'Goodnight this is a man to befriend, not arrest."  
Goodnight caught the look that passed over the barber's face as the man turned to sharpen the razor. The look of guilt verging on the edge of shame, a man pushed to the edge of something he was struggling against with all his might, and losing. He twisted his head, neck cracking and glanced at Billy. Dark eyes met his, a flash of movement that was Goodnight's death twisting with the flow of time before Billy blinked and the vision was gone. Now was not his time yet. Faraday shifted forward on his seat, the man not even aware of the movement as he followed the story, bottle hanging from loose fingers, eyes never leaving Goodnight. Teddy had shifted forward as well, body curved ever so slightly away from Billy, eyes locked on Goodnight as well. They had both heard the stories, of his battles, of his kills, knew his moniker and Sam trusted them. Just what was the man up to this time? He was always a tricky one, wrapped up in a coat of decency and honour. A good man in a sea of lawlessness.

The townspeople called his betting ring a scam when they had enough drink to loosen their lips and they were nowhere in sight, this Goodnight knew. The man now lying on the table of the gravedigger was not the first death that had occurred due to drunken bravado and it would not be the last one they caused. The time of their departure was growing nearer and nearer, and this was no way to live. They were running from town to town, Goodnight fleeing from his death looming over him, running from the horrors he had seen and committed during the war, and Billy was there with him every step of the way.

 _"What's your name?"_  
 _The mud squelched under their boots, the earth seeming to reach out and try to drag them down to consume them. The crows descended as the man left with Goodnight, their sound of ripping flesh and harsh cries trailing after them._  
 _"I don't have one, not now," the man said after a few moments of deep thought, one arm wrapped around Goodnight's waist to steady him. They had walked for a few moments now, hand wrapped tightly around Goodnight's, a steadying beacon of burning contact. This was closer to another person who wasn't actively trying to kill him than Goodnight had been in months and he found himself drawn closer despite himself._  
 _"I have to call you something if we are going to be travelling together," Goodnight replied, swinging their re-joined hands as they walked, gun bumping against his back._  
 _"Call me Billy Rocks, Goodnight Robicheaux."_  
 _"Billy Rocks," Goodnight said, rolling the name about his tongue as if it was fine whisky, savouring the taste of it, "It is a pleasure to meet you."_  
 _"Nice to meet you as well," Billy replied, raising their hands to press a quick kiss to the back of Goodnight's hand as if he was a Southern Belle._  
 _"You got any tricks then?" Goodnight asked, ignoring the blush that threatened to spread across his cheeks._  
 _"Wouldn't you like to know," Billy countered, raising an eyebrow at him, "Can't have you getting bored with me so soon."_  
 _"My daddy always used to say I was like a dog with a bone."_  
 _"Well then I will just have to keep your interest," Billy replied lightly as the duo made their way carefully from the battlefield, shielding their eyes from the glare of the setting sun._

"And so here we are," Goodnight concluded, stretching his hands out, bottle still clutched between two fingers. The wind slipped through the cracks in the small saloon, biting against the now bare places of his face as he turned his head to consider his reflection in the mirror. A roar from the other side of the bar, the sounding of glass smashing against the floor drew Faraday's and Teddy's attention for a few seconds, but that was enough. The barber moved quickly with a speed that came with practice, with familiarity with his tools and drew the sharpened razor across Goodnight's throat.

Goodnight's eyes met his in the mirror, saw the exact moment that sick satisfaction dropped and turned to blood freezing dread.  
"You are going to regret that."  
Billy's voice was as calm as the grave, time seeming to slow around them like moving through thick honey.  
"Leave now."  
Time returning to it's normal pace was like emerging from deep water, lungs fighting the urge to gasp, heart pounding in his chest as his sweat stung his eyes. But he resisted, saw the barber pack away his things, motions stiff like a wooden marionette, his death written on his face.

"So what did you say Chisolm was needing us for?" Goodnight asked, drawing Faraday's attention back to him, the normal background noise of the saloon filtering back in, sunlight through a broken pane.  
"There's this town, name of Rose Creek..."

Goodnight didn't need to look to know where Billy was, didn't need to look to know what he was doing. Billy was slouched against the wall of the saloon, dark eyes staring out at the world who shot curious glances back, gaze dropping as if it would burn to meet his eyes, unlit cigarette clamped between his teeth as he exhaled clouds of sweet smelling smoke.


End file.
